The gym at Ops had never seen this much paper.

Workout mats had been pushed aside. Dumbbells lined the wall like disinterested spectators. And in the middle of it all sat Nell, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by towers of files, open folders, and hand-scrawled notes taped to the nearby punching bag.

It looked like a conspiracy theorist had moved in and started cross-referencing tax records with facial recognition logs. But there was method in the madness—anyone who knew Nell could see it. She moved with purpose, highlighter in one hand, pen in the other, laptop open beside her, a steady stream of analysis quietly whispered into her headset to Eric upstairs.

"—no, that doesn't match the last transfer. Backtrack the funding trail through the shell company, I'm almost certain it links to the embassy buyout—yeah, I'll mark it—"

Callen paused at the threshold of the gym, arms folded as he leaned against the doorway. The case had been more data-heavy than usual—less boots on the ground, more hours digging through financial records, wire transfers, and falsified documents. Eric had been knee-deep in firewalls and encrypted logs for two days straight. Nell had practically built a fortress out of paper.

And she'd been down here for hours.

He watched her for a minute. She didn't notice. She was in full analyst mode—lips pressed together in concentration, moving papers around like puzzle pieces that only she could see fitting together. Her foot bounced lightly with focus, and every so often she muttered a word or two to herself.

Callen finally pushed off the wall and walked over.

"You know this is technically a gym," he said casually, stepping around a cluster of stapled intel reports. "People used to work out in here."

Nell looked up, blinking like she hadn't realized time had passed. "Yeah, I annexed it. Temporarily."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've been in here all day."

"I'm making progress."

"I believe you," Callen said. "I'm also pretty sure you haven't eaten since...?"

"Breakfast," she answered, too quickly.

"That was yesterday, Nell."

She gave him a weak smile and turned back to the file in front of her. "I'm almost done mapping the connections between the contractor's shell firms. Just need to confirm a few more transfers."

Callen exhaled, then stepped behind her without another word.

The next thing Nell knew, two strong hands slid under her arms and she was suddenly lifted—effortlessly—off the ground.

"Hey!" she yelped, arms flailing instinctively as her legs dangled. "What are you—Callen!"

He set her on her feet like she weighed nothing, planting her firmly beside him before stepping back with the smallest of smirks.

"You're scaring the agents down here," he said, glancing at a pair of younger NCIS trainees on the far side of the gym, who quickly looked away after being caught staring.

Nell turned, and sure enough, they were pretending to be busy with a punching bag while sneaking glances at the woman who had built an intelligence war room out of gym mats.

She laughed, a little breathless from the surprise. "Okay. Maybe I've been in here too long."

Callen nodded. "Come on. You're taking a break. Coffee. Maybe actual food. Maybe something that isn't held together with a paperclip."

She hesitated a beat, then let out a long sigh.

"Alright. But I'm bringing my notes."

"Nope." Callen gently plucked the folder out of her hand and tucked it under his arm. "You can have it back after coffee."

She gave him a look but followed anyway, stretching her back with a groan as she stepped over a pile of marked-up schematics.

As they walked out of the gym, Nell glanced at him from the side. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "For what?"

She smiled. "For always knowing when to pull me out of the rabbit hole."

Callen gave her a sideways glance, half a smile tugging at his mouth.

And with that, they disappeared down the corridor—one analyst finally taking a break, and one field agent making sure she always had someone to lean on, even when she didn't ask.